Operation Swaraj
by G3rMan
Summary: Spring 1992. An eishi is requisitioned from the front to replace the losses of an experimental squadron stationed on Andaman Base. Together with an esper who has seen too much death with her own eyes, he struggles to remember what he is fighting for. The story of one of the many pilots who fought for humanity during Alternative III's most important mission, Swaraj.


_Spring 1992_

_The embers of war engulf the earth in flames._

_To extinguish the fire, humanity leaps into the jaws of an unknown enemy._

_This is the tale of one of the many who sacrificed themselves for the future of mankind._

* * *

_Andaman Air Base _

_United Nations 1st Force Jurisdiction Zone_

_Bay of Bengal_

The horizon looked as if it had been set ablaze as the earth turned away from the sun. Soon, the spotlights would turn on and illuminate the vast military compound. That meant curfew would not be far off, and not even the biggest hotshot in the UN would want to deal with MPs after dark.

There was a hill just outside of the chain link fence perimeter that offered one of the best views on the island. Vehicles of all shapes and sizes made laps back and forth on the airfield, shuttling supplies from the landing C-5 Galaxy's cargo bays to the innards of the facilities. That would be the last flight of the evening, so the bustling crews were winding down their routines and getting ready for a long night of inventory.

Most of the goods were moved into nearby hangars for unpacking and distribution. Generally, that kind of work would be left for the next day, but the immediate schedule did not allow for lazing about. The world was putting their stakes on what the men and women at Andaman Base would accomplish by the end of the week, so there was no time for rest. The engineers and mechanics preparing for the operation knew that, so they worked themselves to the bone to finish their tasks on time. Thanks to their hard work, the pilots could operate at one hundred percent efficiency.

One of those pilots sat on the ridge, looking down upon the people he had sworn to fight and die alongside. Rather than feel a sense of pride in the unity behind the operation, he could only feel melancholy as thoughts of what tomorrow would bring broke through his mental barriers. His concern was not for his own life; that right had been taken long ago.

The eishi's hand swept through a mess of brown hair as he recalled the last time he found himself on the precipice of death. It was becoming a common occurrence, that much was for sure.

So, his concerns were not as selfish as some might have been led to believe. Rather, he almost found himself relishing the idea of finally being free of his mortal shell. Perhaps that way, the memories from his past that sought to accost him might finally leave his mind be.

The cracks in his armor had begun to surface the moment he had been transferred to the base from his squadron in Kamchatka. It became visible to him when he realized the man he would be serving under had no interest in seeing him or any of his charges survive. If a commander no longer had faith in the survivability of his men nor his ability to command them, then they were already dead men walking.

At that time, it was still possible for him to give some weight to his own life. Perhaps he still thought he could make a difference, despite the pain it caused him to stand among the living after so many around him had fallen. Or rather, it might have been accurate to say he was still frightened by the thought of dying alone.

Regardless, his penchant for survival had been the very reason why he had been transferred. Apparently, those who could endure against humanity's enemies were considered "veterans" of war; the best humanity had to throw back into the fire. Yet, the most burning question he had upon arriving was not 'Why me?', but rather 'Why here?'.

In comparison to most of the locations he had served, the place was a paradise. Though much of the surrounding rain forest near Port Blair and South Andaman had been cut down to make way for construction, patches of green like the one he sat on still remained. The areas occupied by refugee camps were an ugly spattering of green over a sea of brown mud: green being the color of the UN's distributed shelter package. If one began to walk in any direction on Andaman, they would surely run into something man made long before a beach.

All of that, and it was still an island renowned for its beauty among those enlisted. To be transferred there was supposed to be a godsend rather than a death sentence. Which was why it was not until the black marks that had littered his mission brief had been lifted that he finally realized why so many had been called to such a small place, and why his luck had definitely not held.

Operation Swaraj. The culmination of humanity's third answer to the biggest problem it had ever been forced to solve: the BETA war machine. Alien creatures that no one could bear to look at were the target of region-spanning mission involving over a dozen nations from around the globe. Any hope of peace had already been swept aside, but the opportunity to understand the enemy still remained.

In order to succeed where others had failed, the country he had sworn to fight for provided its own twisted answer. The contents of what had since been named 'Alternative III' was what had him so concerned. It was not his life he was put in charge of saving, but that of someone else with a talent he could not even hope to comprehend.

A flash of snow-white hair fluttering in the wind filled his mind. His chiseled, scarred face seized up as a headache followed the memory. Why was it that when he thought of her, he felt such pain? How could such an innocent creature be so wrong, so dangerous?

No matter how hard he tried to find the answers, they would not come easy. Nothing in his life had ever been easy, so he had learned very quickly to settle with ignorance. It had become his only companion in a world of lies and half-truths.

Off in the distance, a squeak signaled the base's PA system had turned on. A droning voice reminded everyone that the curfew was not long off and that all personnel were expected to return to their dormitories by 1800 hours. For the personnel on the base, there was another reason why it was so important not to stay out late that didn't involve a slap on the wrist or privilege cuts.

The presence of such a powerful military project like Alternative III meant that those who would break the rules were suspicious of more than going AWOL, but rather could easily be construed as admitting to treason itself. Not even he, who was a specially selected pilot for the program could escape from scrutiny: rather, the punishment would be all the more terrible for someone so intimately involved.

The pain from the explosive set of memories still throbbed. He reached inside his flight jacket and pulled out a small capsule. Rattling it, he confirmed that at least some of the contents remained from the last time. Popping the cap off, he grabbed a few of the pills and swallowed them as if they were his last meal. It would take some time for the medicine to take effect, but soon the ache would fade.

That enough would allow him to keep going, but only for so long. There would not be enough pills in the world to help him forget what he had seen and experienced. He found himself falling farther down a tunnel where there was no turning back. The pain was bearable though, because it served as a reminder. To leave those memories behind would be to make him into something he was not, and so he would accept them.

"Drogo!" A voice called out to him, sweet and feminine.

He sighed, as if telling her not to leave the base a hundred times would be enough. Despite being considered her bodyguard, it was more likely than not she kept better track of him than he did her.

Not that he could compete with her 'abilities' in that department.

Drogo looked down at the base of the hill as the young girl walked up toward him. The sun had since set, leaving only a motley collection of purples and blues hanging in the sky above. No matter how dark the world became, that girl acted as a beacon of light. With that silvery white hair of hers, it was always easy to pick her out of a crowd.

"Dro! The scientists said it's almost time for sleeping." She was in front of him now, wearing a smile that he wanted so much to believe was real.

"And you decided to come out here and find me? You know leaving the base is dangerous." Finally, he decided to respond to her with a bit of scolding.

The girl who looked no older than fifteen held out her hand for him to grab. He couldn't help but let his mouth curve upward and take her offer, lifting himself off the grass.

"I knew you would be here, so I wasn't worried." Her smile grew wider and it seemed her cockiness had grown in the time they had been together.

"You knew, huh?"

That first time she had said something like that, he had been genuinely confused. It was just a subtle reminder that she was _different._ That was what his superiors had told him when he first arrived-to keep a distance from people like her. He wouldn't do it for them, but he knew that if he were to accept that girl as being normal then he would relive those horrid memories of his again.

The girl mocked him with a funny face as he was lost in thought. She tugged on his hand in an effort to wake him from his stupor.

"Dro, you know why I don't like to sleep." She reminded him, her smile dimming.

Drogo had known why she left so close to bed time, but had tried not to think of it. Just like him, she had an affinity for nightmares when she was alone. Perhaps that was why she loved to wander the grounds rather than stay in her room, so she could flood herself with other people's thoughts rather than her own.

"Yeah, I know." Her hand tightened its grip around his. "Come on, we should head back."

If it was him, she would follow without much fuss. He believed the reason the lab coats had handed her off to him to look after was because they were tired of dealing with her flighty attitude. Perhaps if she were always so cheerful as she was now, he wouldn't mind staying close.

Since he met her, a phenomenon had been affecting her that he could only seem to link to those nightmares she claimed to be haunted by. According to the dossier he was given, the girl next to him was once always like that: light, cheerful, curious. After a skirmish many months ago, she lost her previous pilot and had begun to unravel into something unstable.

The longer she went without sleep, the better she seemed to behave. Whether or not she was aware of how she acted to those around her, he did not know. What was clear was that every time he went to see her in the morning, the rest she got only seemed to make her worse. The doctors would tell him that they were doing everything they could, but he had stopped listening long ago.

The disorder had started some time before he arrived. In the reports, it said it started just as anyone would expect from someone who had gone through a traumatic experience: depression, fits of rage, suppression of appetite. At the time, maybe they thought they could treat it just like anything else that had affected her: considering the memories as nothing but a common cold and administering her sedatives to 'sleep it off'. Only, they didn't realize that sleep was the last place she wanted to go as that was the place the memories could come alive.

His superior hoped that those emotions could be turned against the BETA, but Drogo had serious doubts of her combat effectiveness. Anything on the battlefield could serve as a trigger that would see her brilliant mind burst under pressure. The lack of concern over his and even her survival superseded those doubts, and that was why no matter how much she resisted and he complained, they both were forced to sleep at some time.

They exited from a set of elevator doors. Drogo was greeted with an entourage of scientists that inhabited the floor that Alternative III had made its home. They seemed to be impatiently waiting for the girl at his side to return, so he motioned for her to join them. No matter his place in the plan or his uniform's rank, he could not join her in those halls. It was off limits to anyone without the proper security clearance.

At the very least, it offered him some form of relief knowing that she was safest when left there. The pained look in her eyes as she dropped his hand said otherwise. It was clear to everyone that she hated it there, but there was nothing to be done about it.

"Katenka." The head researcher called out to her with a sickeningly sweet voice. "It's time for your bath."

The girl named Katenka frowned in the presence of the lab technicians. Only she knew what kind of schedule had been prepared for her that night before battle. Worry creased her brow as she brushed her long hair with a trembling hand.

"Can Dro come with me? I don't like the water."

Drogo looked at her with a reserved stare; it would not do well for him to show emotion in front of the researchers. The slightest infraction against them would lead to execution, which was something he would rather not have happen. Still, he was impressed with her bold ability to lie so easily to the men assigned to care for her.

A long time ago, she told him that she loved bathing. At that time, it was his mission to get to know her so that she could put her trust on his shoulders. It was important for the pilots to act as confidants to their partners, since it would put them at ease during battle. The more obedient they behaved around the pilot, the more receptive they would be to orders on the battlefield.

The head scientist looked at the eishi in front of him with clear disdain, as if Drogo were stealing away his most prized possession. It did little to faze Drogo, as he had experienced horrors in the pilot seat that would make the man in front of him piss himself many times over.

Still, he held steady waiting to be dismissed. There was the option to leave as soon as she was taken into their custody, but he stayed longer for _her_ sake. They would never hurt her, at least physically-that much he was sure of. If staying by her side an extra minute meant that she would be that much more at peace tomorrow, he would do it.

"You can go now, Lieutenant." The poison in his tone was palpable, but nothing unexpected.

Drogo pressed the button to go to his bunk's floor, but he let his eyes wander back to Katenka. Despite knowing what was to come, she held herself together well. She was much stronger than he was-able to act happy for both their sake. Her blue eyes met his green ones, and asked what he would do next. Unable to answer, he gave her the smallest of smiles as the doors closed on them.

The smile she returned stayed with him as the humming of the machinery intensified. How much longer would she be able to act like that?

* * *

_Andaman Base_

_0600 Hours_

_Time before Operation Swaraj begins: 39 hours, 28 minutes_

Drogo was up early that morning, hard at work in his TSF. They had only been allowed a few hours of rest before they were forced to get up and run through training simulations for what felt like eternity. Not long after training, they were given a short down time to consume what could very well be their final meals in peace. He chose to make his to go and work inside the cockpit of his machine rather than sit at a table with nothing to think about outside of the fact that most of the faces he sat next to were soon to be gone from the world.

Not that he would be welcomed at the table with the other pilots, nor was he allowed to be with Katenka until they were in the final preparation stages. Considering the fact that he was a replacement for the project rather than the first picked, many of the people he served alongside looked down on him. If it were due to inexperience or the dislike of being reminded of their fellow comrades being gone, Drogo could sympathize.

Unfortunately, life was never so cut and dry. He was unwelcome around his colleagues of Alternative III because of his origins, rather than his new arrival. Racism and prejudice was rampant in the Soviet military, which was where many of the Alternative III personnel were requisitioned from because the USSR was the sponsor state of the project. Considering how much influence and power came with leading the world's supposed saving grace, those in charge had wanted to ensure that those on the project were the pride of Russia.

That was the key phrasing that would tell those unfamiliar with Soviet politics and geography why he was so disliked. Those already on the project when he arrived were Russian thoroughbreds, the elite of communist society. After having your country split in half by the man eating aliens and millions of your people slaughtered, however, when casualties mounted they could no longer be so choosy about who they placed on the team.

Drogo was not aware of who exactly sponsored his selection, or if it was even anything more than a random draw. Why they would select a Georgian like him into the super exclusive club was beyond the thoughts of even his superior officers, who he was sure would rather pretend as if he were not even there. He had learned long ago after serving on the front lines that in the end, they were all equally as delectable when it came to the BETA's opinion.

That was why he would not stoop so low as return the same hateful sentiments to his fellow pilots as they did to him. For better or worse, his unwillingness to respond or bite back had made his fellow eishi lose interest in their taunting. As odd as it would seem if explained to an outsider, he was closer to Katenka because they could share the feeling of being alone.

There was little time for that, he thought as he went back to work on the computer terminal in his cockpit. He would only prove their words right if he allowed himself to be shot down so easily on his first run. Though he had piloted the TSF he was in before, they had only been short practice exercises. Not only that, but the delicate equipment that had been grafted onto the machine especially for their mission required some getting used to.

To the uninformed pilot or mechanic, they would quickly call the machine an F-14 "Tomcat". A product of American interests, the TSF was designed with mobility and accuracy in mind. Both the original and his variant model were two seated cockpits, a rarity in most TSFs. Originally designed to be used in the confines of Naval air support, the F-14 was chosen as the machine that most closely reflected the needs required by Alternative III. From there, the F-14AN3 was born with the unofficial name of "Mindseeker".

To most, they would play it off as a reference to the variety of gadgets mounted often times crudely to the hull that were used to increase the effectiveness of the inner sensor and broadcasting suite. To the few informed of the true purpose of Alternative III, it took a much more realistic meaning.

Though Drogo did not understand the intrinsic details of Katenka and her sisters' abilities, he knew that their ability to read emotions and intentions were stronger than an average person. Some had likened it to the fictional ability of mind reading, but Katenka had never called it something so simple. In fact, she said that it was actually a very difficult and exhausting thing for her to do. That was why she only used her powers on two kinds of people; those she liked and those she didn't like.

Everyone else didn't matter to her, and perhaps that was for the best. If it were possible to overdose on "thought" itself, he feared that Katenka's talent would be more lethal than beneficial.

Considering the fact she had to put those abilities to the test in battle as part of her primary objective during hive infiltration, he could understand how important it was to have more than just a competent pilot sitting behind her. Most two seated cockpits allowed for both pilots to better focus on their specific tasks, which was supposed to make their mission that much easier.

In previous briefings, he had been informed that when not using her power, Katenka was in charge of the weapon systems. In an emergency, Drogo would be able to override her cockpit controls and take full control of the TSF, something he was starting to believe would become a real possibility if her condition did not improve.

The espers trained to be TSF pilots since the day they were born through the use of technology he could not possibly be asked to understand. If she were not exhibiting such a dangerous mental disorder before battle, he would be relieved to have her fighting alongside him. During their training runs, her accuracy was ridiculously high in comparison to other test pilots and even other espers on base.

Surprisingly, despite the fact that she was deep in a blood lust haze, she was able to outperform all of her "normal" siblings. Rather than comfort him, it only offered more questions to be asked than answers.

More to the point, because there was a real chance that he would be required to handle both the flying and fighting he had been forced to accept the lack of firepower attached to the machine. They were only allowed one WS-16 Assault Cannon, the UN's standard rifle package. He wasn't one to be envious, but in combat he would much rather have something akin to a Gun Sweeper's withering barrage capabilities to keep the melee-loving enemy at range.

That was why it annoyed him when his superior claimed that their purpose was not combat, but rather intelligence gathering. Drogo knew the point of Alternative III was to somehow gain information from the BETA through the esper's thought reading abilities, but he highly doubted any of the beasts he had fought would know more than the last. They were all like worker ants of different shapes and sizes, and humanity had yet to find what constituted as the Queen.

While the Special Tactics & Intelligence task force he was a part of were doing their readings, they were supposed to be guarded by at least two Battalions of eishi while inside the hive. Even a rookie would know that number of TSFs against an entire hive was nowhere near enough. They wouldn't make it through the first hall with that many.

Unfortunately, due to the equipment mounted onto the shoulder arms and pylons, attaching additional weapon systems was impossible. Though it was a grim outlook, he figured it would be easy enough to find rifles and ammo early on considering the casualty figures associated with hive infiltrations. The hive they would be infiltrating at Bhopal was relatively young at only two years of age, but it was already a Phase 3. That meant the kind of defenses and subterranean distance they would be traveling to reach the center was substantial.

Though their goal was to collect as much data as they could and retreat, he knew that even if they escaped alive there was a good chance they would be forced to deploy again. For the analysts looking at the data, enough was never enough. Not only that, but the USSR was relying on results from Operation Swaraj in order to continue its dominance in the political world.

If the espers were unable to give the world the hope it needed to survive, then they would be mothballed along with everything else associated with the plan. Drogo honestly believed that fighting on the front at Kamchatka was more important than the chance of uncovering some sort of thought process the BETA could have, but whether he liked it or not he was stuck where he was. He had to make the best of it, for himself and Katenka's sake.

She would be relying on him out there to keep them alive. Regardless of his own disregard for safety, he couldn't allow them to die so easily on the field.

Katenka wasn't the only one who had a desire to kill the BETA, after all. He too...

More memories flooded into his mind. A small town by a lake frozen over. Snow covered streets walked on by those too poor to afford shoes. Those young orphans left behind by parents and family long gone, with no one to take care of them. He could remember them all, from the town he was born.

A throbbing migraine soon followed. His body wracked itself with agony as his sensory organs overloaded from the vivid reverie.

"Ugh!" He moaned from the sudden bout of pain.

That was the worst of times to suffer from nightmares. As he scrambled to climb over the first seat and escape the cockpit, he could of sworn he could hear the church bells ring. A cold blast of air smacked him as he practically fell onto the catwalk, despite the fact that the hanger was closed off to the humid weather outside.

_What is wrong with me?_

As if in a trance, he stumbled and paced out of the hanger. Behind him, he left his work half done and many mechanics concerned at his pale appearance. No one dared follow after him.

Inside the locker room, Drogo practically clawed his way into the cabinet to retrieve his precious reprieve. Fumbling the pills, a few spilled onto the floor. He threw a handful of them into his mouth, swallowing them all in one go. He collapsed onto the cold concrete floor, the frigid temperature of the material soothed his aching temples.

At his age, was it common to suffer from hallucinations? Impossible, the doctors would have found something wrong in his evaluations. What if they did know what was wrong with him, but let it happen? Thoughts of the head researcher came to mind as someone he wouldn't put it past to play that kind of sick joke. He might have believed it too if it were possible they were doing it because of their dislike for him, but he knew they couldn't afford to put Katenka at risk.

No, whatever was affecting him something he had brought on himself. Deep down, he knew it wasn't a disease, but rather a defense mechanism his mind must have concocted to keep him from seeing things he did not wish to remember.

His eyes started to close as the medicine began took effect. Perhaps it was too much to ask, but Drogo preferred it if his head could think of other ways to stop him from accessing those memories.

Before he could succumb to slumber, a set of footsteps entered the locker room. Even in his rattled state, he could tell there were at least three of them.

"Oh look, the Georgian is sleeping on the ground. How fitting." One of them mocked him in a Moscow dialect he had learned to identify long ago.

They were always the ones with the biggest mouth.

"Oi, Vachnadze. Get your ass up." Said another, addressing him by his last name but without rank to keep up the insulting theme.

As he was laying on his side, his back was to them. He felt an armored boot on his back and was quickly rolled over onto his back with a pull. If he hadn't collapsed, he would have broken it.

"For being so calm and collected during the briefing, you don't look like you are taking the pre-mission jitters so well." Moscow seemed to be enjoying the fact he was the one standing tall.

They all had the look of rich young men who volunteered in the army for appearance sake. Of course, their connections would get them into Alternative III as part of the Soviet entourage. Either they were in for a rude awakening that day, or they were a lot stronger than he thought.

When offered their hand, he wanted to ignore it. The strength in his body was tentative at best, so he had little choice. He was not surprised at all when he went to grab the hand, it was taken away immediately.

"I'd rather not get my hand dirty with trash, thanks."

They all got a hearty laugh out of the witty comment as Drogo struggled to use the bench to stand up. He had gotten used to being alone, so having to deal with those three idiots was particularly grating on his nerves. They might not have been as important as Katenka, but he would suffer all the same if he physically harmed any of them.

Perhaps it was better he felt so weak at that moment, since his mind had almost snapped. It had picked the worst day for his body to release all of its built up stress. If he didn't get it together soon, he wouldn't be able to sortie. If that happened, Katenka would be sent out with a replacement pilot who would know nothing about her or what to do if she lost control.

For her sake, Drogo was able to pull himself up and shut his locker closed. Just as he was about to head out, he was stopped with a hand on his shoulder.

"Where do you think you're going, Georgian?"

Drogo didn't answer but instead aggressively shrugged his shoulder so the offending hand was sent flying. Without a word, he walked out of the room just in time for the PA system to activate again.

"Attention, all pilots of the 4th Special Operations Battalion are to report to the briefing room A-2 for final mission briefing." The woman's voice was clear and concise, as were the orders themselves.

It was finally time for them to begin. The announcement repeated and echoed in the halls as Drogo made his way to the other side of the complex.

* * *

_Time before Operation Swaraj begins: 38 hours, 28 minutes_

Inside the room stood 35 clustered pilots, all in UN fortified suits. They were at attention as the commander of their battalion entered the room, also suited up. Accompanying him was the lead researcher in charge of the Alternative III espers in Andaman, as well as what looked a Soviet intelligence officer.

Drogo eyed the commissar warily, as it was rare to see one allowed in a UN facility. The status as sponsor nation must have let the USSR do more than he thought. The intelligence officers were known by most in the Soviet military as ghosts, coming in and out of bases in what felt like the blink of an eye. In that small span of time, they find and plug up any 'leaks' to the command structure they feel need to be fixed.

To have one there must have meant that their mission had the interests of someone in the Party. After all, it took some power to be able to manipulate an officer like that to do their bidding.

"At ease." Major Brugofsky ordered with a simple salute back at the men.

The older man was in his late twenties and had been put in charge of Alternative III's Special Tactics and Intelligence Task Force. More specifically, he took on field command of the 4th Special Operations Battalion, which included Drogo's Vsadnik squadron. With them, there was Tsygany and Poltava as well which were all made up of elite pilots specifically brought in to escort Andaman's compliment of espers.

It was rare to find any unit full strength in the war against the BETA. Considering the fact that Drogo's transfer was completed within a few days meant they were dedicated to ensuring the task force remained at one hundred percent readiness. Still, he hoped the Major was impressive enough to be given command over the group, rather than be one of the many pilots that were just for show.

The rare interactions he had with the man gave Drogo a low opinion of his mind as a person. That said nothing about what kind of tactics he could bring to the table. From their training exercises, it was clear he had no qualms of sending the men to their deaths if it meant getting deeper into the hive. How effective that strategy would be in real combat remained to be seen, but if there any objections by the men above Brugofsky, there had been no word of it.

"Today at 0830, final preparations for the commencement of Operation Swaraj will begin. All units involved are now undergoing their final briefing, and we have a lot to talk about." Brugofsky seemed particularly uncomfortable, perhaps he was under scrutiny by the intelligence officer?

"After the briefing, Team Lead Sokelov will give you a refresher on what to expect from your..._partners._" He seemed to struggle with the right word to define the espers by.

Partners was an accurate term, though he seemed anything but pleased about it. Many of the men thought of the girls as freaks or 'witches' because of their abnormal powers. The fact that they were created artificially just added fuel to the fire and made Drogo cringe at some of the interactions the other pilots had with the espers. No matter their origins, they were still humans who could feel emotions.

He knew it was hard on all of the girls to be ostracized, but there was nothing he could do for them.

The lights in the room dimmed as the projector stirred behind them. On the board near the front of the room, a grid map was shown of the Sea of Bengal, which was where the Andaman and Nicobar islands were located. Included on the left hand side was India's eastern coast, and if the map extended further west would be where their objective lay in the center of the sub-continent, Bhopal hive.

"To start with, let me remind you all that Operation Swaraj is a multinational mission that is being spearheaded by UN Force Command. Governments supporting the effort include COSEAN, African Union, and of course India and Sri Lanka. We will be working in tandem with their forces in order to achieve our objective which is the successful infiltration of Objective 13, Bhopal hive."

It would be the largest operation since Palaiologos. To think that all of those armies would be working together against the BETA, one might have thought it difficult for the aliens to win. But thoughts like those were antiquated, based on past battles where humans fought humans. To the BETA, humanity was nothing more than pests getting in their way.

The size of the operation was what it took in order for mankind to be able to stand against its foe. If anything, it showed how humans were at a disadvantage.

"At 0730, this briefing will conclude with you immediately joining your TSF partner and making any last minute preparations. By 0800, you will be on standby in your TSFs, ready to launch at a moment's notice."

On screen, the picture shifted to a similar grid map that was of Port Blair, the nearby harbor that serviced Andaman island. In preparation for the operation, dozens of ships had been massing in and around the artificially enlarged bay created for the shipyard.

"Before the operation starts, we will transfer our battalion to three waiting _Iwo Jima_-class assault carrier ships that are a part of the UN's 5th fleet. At 0830, all ships of the 5th and 8th UN Fleets will immediately depart the area surrounding Port Blair and set course for the eastern Indian coast."

The map changed again to display a variety of markings that indicated the two fleets leaving the small island of Andaman. From there, an arrow showed their general path toward the former state of Odisha off the east coast of India.

"It will take us approximately 36 hours to get into position off the coast of Odisha. By that time, the Indian Eastern Naval Command's 1st fleet will have rendezvoused with our collective UN naval detachment. Whereas the 5th fleet is made up of personnel that are under the direct command of the UN command structure, the 8th fleet contains our allies from COSEAN and the African Union."

Among the men, there was some dissent concerning the lack of Soviet presence. Considering their position, they found it disconcerting that they were to be guarded by men and women they had never met before. Most likely, the countries involved had no love for Alternative III, but were rather hoping to finally get revenge on the BETA for evicting them from their home countries. Not only that, but supporting the UN might have offered some of them advantageous position in the game of world politics.

"At 2100 hours on Friday, we will have linked up with the 3rd Sri Lankan Naval Support Squadron who will be providing us with final replenishment of supplies. By 2130, we will launch from the fleet and proceed inland together with the combined TSF forces of the 1st, 5th, and 8th Fleets. Operation Swaraj will officially commence after we pass the Barna Dam, which should be no later than 2400 hours."

An overlay map of India displayed their suspected route with a blue arrow and dozens of UN markings that represented the units involved. Painted on the map like water was the color red, which represented concentrated areas of suspected BETA presence.

"As you can see, the route we have chosen to take is much longer than what our TSFs can handle. On the other hand, this route is considerably less dangerous with our projected mappings of the BETA herds on the Indian subcontinents. We will be carrying extra fuel pods and can expect an emergency resupply due to the efforts of the Indian XXI Corps, 31st Division who will be undergoing a holding action after the Hive attack commences."

The map showed the Indian forces in green as their arrow came up from the southern end of the landmass. There was still a small part of the mainland being used as a culling operation zone by the Indian military. He guessed they were being requisitioned from that front to spearhead an assault designed to cut a swathe through the BETA in the operation's way.

"At 2400, we will be in position near Barna Dam where we will be witnessing first hand humanity's latest tactic to take the fight to the BETA."

The whispers intensified as Drogo struggled to remember all of the facets of the plan from previous briefings. He didn't remember them playing up the part so much last time.

A view of Earth was shown with UN space markings displaying the 5th HSST fleet. They were supposedly orbiting above the operation zone to support the ground forces. A new display popped up next to the fleet name, displaying '1st Orbital Diver Corps'.

"Using new technology centered around TSF capsule re-entry, the newly formed Orbital Diver Corps will be landing _directly _on top of Bhopal hive in a type of shock and awe tactic." The major seemed quite proud of the daring maneuver, as if he were the one to come up with it.

"The Corps will be landing directly after the orbiting fleet completes its bombardment and release of anti-laser shells. From there, they will secure our forces an entry into the Hive's stab closest to the shaft."

It was a tall order, and depending on how long it took the rest of them to arrive and support the divers they were almost assured to be wiped out. Most of the men in the room didn't seem particularly optimistic about the outcome of the drop either. Most were probably considering themselves lucky in comparison.

"By 0100 hours, we will have infiltrated into the hive alongside the UN's 201st Armored and 225th Tactical battalions. Our allies from COSEAN and the African Union will continue to engage the remnants of the BETA topside. Whatever is left of the Orbital Diver Corps will be incorporated into the 225th Tactical."

The picture shifted a cutaway of a Phase 3 hive structure, at least what estimates put the layout of the hive as. It was woefully simple and most likely inaccurate, but it was the best they could do. The image increased in resolution to show their battalion's progress through the stab and through the halls it would take for them to reach the shaft.

If he had to guess, it would take them hours just to reach the shaft even if they infiltrated the closest stab.

"Finally, it will be our turn to be on the center stage. Upon entering the hive, we will proceed with our primary objective of intelligence gathering via esper readings on the BETA inside. Our goal here is quantity, not quality in our readings. We have little idea what to expect as this will be the first time espers do readings from inside a hive."

There had been previous missions with the task force's espers attempting readings on BETA, but it had been during the relatively measured culling operations undertaken by the military's around the world. In situations like those, it was even possible to have the espers not even see combat.

"Upon reaching the first hall, if we have yet to reach a satisfactory conclusion to our initial readings, we will continue to proceed deeper into the hive. If we do manage to record enough data in the stab and first hall, then we will immediately fall back and proceed with the rest of the surviving units to our fallback point at the Barna Dam.."

Brugofsky had stood tall the entire time and had not let up in his usual intensity. It made it difficult to tell how he felt about the operation that was almost clearly suicide. His face was stone cold as he delivered the next set of instructions.

"I will tell you now that there will be no retreat until we have gathered enough data. No matter how many of us fall, we will proceed deeper into the hive for our readings even if it requires us to reach the bottom of the shaft itself."

As he spoke, the intelligence officer bowed his head so that his eyes were hidden underneath his cap. Drogo thought it sounded like something a commissar would say, after all. Most of the men didn't seem particularly pleased about such a clear concise order that was essentially telling them to die trying to succeed.

"Of course, our secondary goal will include the capture or destruction of the hive's inner workings. Be prepared for any contingency depending on what we find in the shaft."

No unit had successfully breached the shaft, so questions abounded about what the BETA could have there. Was there a leader type that hid away there? Did they store resources in the shaft? More than likely, it would just be filled with more BETA.

"That concludes the overview of the mission. We will be going over it shortly before the operation officially commences in 36 hours, but don't forget any of it."

"Salute!" The 35 pilots in the room saluted their commanding officer, which he returned lazily.

Next, the major turned to Sokelov for his part of the briefing. The doctor replaced him as standing in front of the screen. He was scrawny in comparison to the other men there, and he looked rather unkempt. The blonde hair on his head was faded and tousled, like he had just gotten up from bed.

It seemed like the work he did for Alternative III kept him from looking his best, or perhaps he didn't see the point of dressing up for soldiers.

"Alright, I don't want to keep you men from your _busy_ preparations so this shouldn't take long. You all should already know most of what I'm going to tell you from past briefings and the dossiers you received on our espers, but repetition is key."

A diagram appeared on the projector displaying a TSF on the ground. It noted that inside, there was an esper and a normal pilot close to the model.

"Just as a refresher, ESPer stands for Extrasensory Perception, which means their ability goes past the normal five senses in order for them to detect and read the inner thoughts of living beings. Simply put, they can see output from your brain and figure out what you are thinking of. Of course, their ability to do this differs between each of them, so it is impossible to expect the same kind of result from individual tests."

The screen updated to show a series of curves that seemed similar to a sonar wave being emitted from all around the TSF.

"This image represents a simplified idea of the 'range' of the esper's thought reading ability. On their own, the espers' ability can only extend a few meters. With the support of the sensors built onto your TSFs, it can go well past that and even surpass physical obstacles like rock and steel."

Sokelov seemed particularly pleased about the capabilities of the espers and the TSF. His speech sped up and some of his words mixed with one another as he seemed to forget how to speak.

BETA appeared on the screen, specifically a Grappler class.

"Upon a BETA entering the range of the esper's senses, they will immediately begin to read its thoughts. This process shouldn't take more than a few minutes for them to grab the thought and process it. The challenge comes from inciting BETA thought. As seen from previous reading attempts we have been unable to stoke their minds to communicate back."

The scientist scratched his head in what seemed like decisive defeat based on the confusion behind BETA communication.

"More accurately, our espers describe no thoughts to read at all. We are hoping that being in the presence of the hive changes their behavior, but we aren't sure if it will have any effect. That is why reaching the inner parts of the shaft is important, as it is the suspected area for any kind of command and control unit which most certainly should have some higher capability of thought."

A brain BETA? Drogo tried to imagine what one would look like, only to give up before he disgusted himself.

"Apart from their reading ability, the espers will act as the traditional weapon officers inside the TSFs. I know you are all elite pilots, but try and have some faith in their abilities. They have been trained from birth to pilot these machines, whereas you only started at 15."

No matter how much trust he had in Katenka, it was impossible to not feel uneasy. It didn't matter that she was an esper, but to take a pilot that was so used to piloting a TSF by themselves and thrust them into a position where they have to share controls with a partner is uncomfortable at best. Frustration can easily settle in as the pilot desires to take control of the weapons or vice versa, leading to chafing in the command structure and the ability to pilot the TSF effectively is diminished.

The pilots had trained considerably with the espers, but real combat had a way of making training feel very alien in comparison.

"Alright Major, I think that's just about it. Shall I bring them in?"

Sokelov waited for the Major's nod before he quickly exited the room in order to do something. A few moments later, thirty six espers entered the room. They were suited in their unique Alternative III pilot suits; purple armor supplemented a pearlescent white inner body coat.

Most of the girls excitedly went to join their associated pilot. Unfortunately, they were often not well received by their so-called partners.

It was obvious why they were called sisters as each one shared the same silver hair and ocean blue eyes. What individuality they were allowed came from the varying ponytails, buns, and curls of haircuts. A few were slightly older than some of the others, which gave them a superior height. The purple devices attached to their heads that seemed to be used in order to support the esper's thought reading ability all shared similar designs, but could very in shape.

Katenka was quick to find him in the sea of blue and purple. When he looked at her, he could tell she was different than yesterday. Just as he feared, her personality had undergone the switch again.

Her eyes were sunken, void of life. Even with the suit on, he could tell her body was tense and ready to take action. The dreams had struck again, and it pained him to see her like that.

"Katenka..." He muttered, just loud enough for her to hear.

The concern laced in his voice was obvious. He felt terrible not knowing what to do in order to help her.

"Dro..." There was little cheer left in her body from the day before.

Her arms encircled her chest as she held herself tight. It was as if she was warding off the entire BETA horde. Like a tremor in the ground, her body began to shake.

"Dro...I want to kill them. All of them." Her voice took an ominous shift.

"Katenka, don't think about it. Just calm down." When he reached out to her, she shrugged him off.

"The ones who took my sisters...I'll kill all of them."

Some of the espers nearby turned their heads and looked at their sister with concern, but their bodies instinctively recoiled. She was still too quiet for anyone else to hear, so they must have read her thoughts.

"Katenka, we will get them. You just have to wait a little longer..." It felt like talking was the only thing he could do to not draw attention.

"No!" The scream echoed in the small room, bringing everyone's attention to Drogo. "I won't hesitate. Not again...not again."

"Katenka!" Sokelov came running over, full of worry. "What's wrong?"

"No...no!" When she tried to run away, Brugofsky appeared in front of her.

Katenka wasn't intimidated by him in the slightest as she tried to run past. An arm came swinging out from his side and grabbed her wrist. Drogo instinctively took a step forward to try and stop the rough handling, but his superior's eyes told him to back off.

"Doctor." Without another word, Sokelov brought out a syringe and injected her with a sedative.

With her muscles being relaxed, her body went slack in the major's arms. He handed the girl off to the doctor who quickly took her away for further treatment. Everyone's eyes were on Drogo, as if he were the cause of the disturbance. That was the first time she had ever reacted so negatively in front of the group, and none of the other girls had ever exhibited such behavior.

Considering Drogo's position as her partner, the uninformed would assume it his fault.

"Second Lieutenant Vachnadze, follow me." Whether it was out of consideration for him or something else, Brugofsky at least let them leave that stuffy place.

As soon as the door shut behind them, the Major turned and pushed Drogo up against the wall. His tight grip was insurmountable around the collar armor of the fortified suit. On reflex, Drogo grabbed Brugofsky's wrists to pull them free but found himself unable to.

The only sign of what the Major was feeling was the deathly serious glare he wore.

"Listen up, Vachnadze. I don't care about you and I don't care about the girl. What matters to me is that you both stay out of the way, do your job, and if need be die quietly." For once, his honesty was disconcerting.

"If you aren't willing to control that girl, then _I _will. If your conscience gets in the way during the infiltration, I'll shoot you myself. Do I make myself clear?" His words were said through bared teeth, as if the message wasn't already intimidating enough.

There was nothing he could do but accept the hard truth that he and Katenka meant nothing to him. Not only that, but they were merely a pebble in a quarry. Where they fell, another esper and pilot would take their place. For her sake, he had to lower his head.

"Sir..yes, sir." It was difficult to speak with the grip around his neck, but he managed.

For a moment, the tense standoff continued. The Major let go after that and quickly regained his composure. It was almost like the conversation never happened.

"In the end, all your good for as a pilot is dying to complete the objective. Remember that before the battle starts, lest you get the idea that your anyone else in this squadron has any kind of lasting value." Brugofsky was quite the cynic.

"I'd sacrifice every one of you if it meant getting to the primary objective, but I'm not the only one that thinks that way. Hate me if you will, but I am merely upfront about it."

Drogo said nothing, as he knew that the Major wasn't lying. Anyone willing to see the big picture of the war effort could accept that sacrifice was an inevitability. His previous commander was no different, but she said something once that made him rethink what it meant to be a leader.

_Strength in leadership doesn't come from accepting the truth. It means to turn lies into reality for the men under your command._

Commanders around the globe had to face the fact that they could not save everyone from death. She had figured that out the hard way, just like everyone else. What mattered was that the men would still listen to her words, still believe that her orders of suicide would lead to victory in the end. Through those sweet lies she whispered in the mens' ears before their deaths came respect and love.

Experiencing both sides of the coin made it so Drogo could accept what the Major said without argument. It also didn't change the fact that he disagreed with everything the man had said, even if what he believed was a lie. If nothing else, he wanted to believe he could bring Katenka back safely.

"Go ahead, try and survive. Prove me wrong and fight harder than anyone could expect." The officer smiled, though there was no affection behind it. "You'll only be doing me a favor."

With that, the Major re-entered the room. The men had to be dismissed to their TSFs as the clock was quickly approaching the time for launch. Pre-flight checks and last minute preparations had to be crammed into the hour or so they had left.

With nothing but the battle ahead in mind, Drogo Vachnadze turned and started to head for the hangar. With what strength he had left, he would see the operation through to the end. If he could help Katenka free herself from her nightmares, perhaps he too could rest easy that night.

* * *

_Amphibious Assault Ship, USS Tripoli_

_Sea of Bengal_

_Time before Operation Swaraj begins: 26 hours, 40 minutes_

On the flight deck of the venerable _Iwo Jima _class, Drogo sat aboard his machine's cockpit. His body was restless, and there was no way he could fall asleep with the others down below. Besides, with the cockpit open the fresh air was refreshing that night.

Unlike the Japanese _Oosumi _class assault ship, the _Iwo Jima_ were redesigned World War II models that required the TSFs to be stored on deck. There was a cargo bay compartment that could be used for beach landings, but it was filled to the brim with supply containers for the upcoming operation. Depending on the contingent serving on the ship, the Marine Corps would sometimes make use of the space to fit one of their A-6 Intruders inside.

If one were to look in any direction, they would see the ships of the UN's 5th Fleet. Filled with a multi-national, motley group of battleships, cargo ships, and assault carriers there was little doubt the fleet was prepared for a hostile welcome on the coast's of India. He only hoped the pilots joining him would be as well.

Sighing, Drogo dismissed the visual link to the TSF and got up from the stuffy chair that had been his home for the past few hours. Carefully, he maneuvered around Katenka's front seat and got outside. If one was careful, the extended part of the TSF's control unit could act as a balcony of sorts. It often offered spectacular views, considering the height of most TSFs.

A hand combed through his coarse mop of hair. Drogo took in the view with masked astonishment. The running lights of the neighboring ships extended out as far as the eye could see. They reminded him of fireflies from back home. Every summer, he would go to the park and watch for them.

A flash of white overcame his mind as memories thought buried resurfaced. Drogo threw a hand out and grabbed onto the steel frame nearby, steadying himself.

"Ugh!" The pain was coming back again.

Rather than being an agonizing ache over time, that one hit him full force in one go. Unable to hold himself up, Dro collapsed into the TSF's interior. His pupils began to dilate and shift as his eyes tried to avoid watching what was in his mind.

_Falling snow covers the small village near that beautiful little lake. People walk the streets, poor and rich all falling under the same clouds of depression. On another walk through town, there was the orphanage near the church._

_A new group of children hung about outside, dropped off by a military truck. The latest refugees from the front. One that stood out to him had the most chilling eyes; blue irises that were as empty as the ocean depths._

_That would be one of many days that their paths crossed. In the future, he would acquaint himself with her. Later, take care of her as she watched over him. Repairing those eyes, that was his desire._

"Dro! Dro, I know you're up there!" Woken from his reverie, the pilot found his pain fading away.

The memories were becoming more and more vivid. How hard had he tried to forget them, for them to be so adamant about returning?

Drogo got up from the TSF interior and leaned out to see Katenka. She was still in her fortified suit, and her happy facade had returned. Immediately, he wondered how she could be out and about considering her curfew.

"Oi, shouldn't you be down below getting some rest?" It seemed like he always asked her that question when they found themselves meeting.

How could it be anything else? The only time he could talk to her was at the latest of hours when all _he_ could think of was getting rest, after all.

"I knew you weren't sleeping either, Dro." Her smile turned mischievous as she waved at him to lower the boarding grapple.

Returning her grin, he did as she asked and carefully helped her onto the platform. Their hands stayed connected for a moment before he pulled back, hesitant. Katenka didn't seem to mind as she cried out in surprise with the stellar view in front of her.

"So pretty. Dro, don't they look pretty?" The childlike wonder that inhabited her adolescent body made it difficult for him to respond.

Considering her powers, it wouldn't have been unreasonable to think of her as being superior to him. At the same time, it was clear that due to the way she was raised she did not receive the same kind of information he had as a child. When your home is a laboratory, the world can really seem very large.

"I thought you didn't like water, Katenka?" Though she didn't mind baths, the girl really hated any kind of body of water larger than a puddle.

Though he had never been on the floor inhabited by the Alternative III scientists and espers, he assumed it had something to do with the experiments they were subjected to.

"Mm...you're right." As if his comment made her realize her precarious position, the girl hugged herself.

Drogo had to hold back a chuckle at how cute she seemed. Her actions truly belied her strength.

"You found it funny, didn't you Dro?" Reading his mind, it turned out his self control was not enough.

Before he could respond, she turned to face him. Rather than be mad as he expected her to be, her bright smile illuminated that corner of the world.

"But, I'm okay being here." Again, their hands were linked. "Because Dro is here, I feel better."

"Katenka..." As he looked at their intertwined fingers, memories of that orphan girl surfaced again.

_Na..Natashja..._

The name filled his head, echoing in the recesses of his mind. Had he tried to forget even that much? Incredibly, there was no pain, but rather recognition.

Katenka watched Drogo as he became lost in his own thoughts. Her smile began to fade as the murky waters of his mind became confusing to her again. She tried so hard to understand and help him, but she still didn't know what ailed him.

"Katenka." Surprised to hear him say her name so suddenly, the girl's attention was focused on him. "Did I ever tell you that I used to gamble?"

When she shook her head in dissent, he followed his instincts and tried to remember back to that time when he once valued his own life as much as others.

"Before I was a soldier, I lived in Georgia where I was born. Without a family, I took care of myself after I left the orphanage. To eat, I'd gamble and make money that way."

Confident she was listening, Drogo continued to rehash his past.

"To be honest, I never was really good at it. Unless I cheated, it seemed like the odds were always stacked against me. Then one day, I met...someone who helped me win." It was hard for him to remember much of the girl, and he hesitated describing her to Katenka.

"Somehow, she always knew when the men I was playing with were bluffing, so I started to win. Together, we ate a lot of food." A rare smile flashed across his face, which caused Katenka to imitate it.

"That person is long gone now...but for this mission, I'm going to have to bet everything I have on us winning. Will you help me, like _she_ did?" Katenka tightened her grip on his hand, though her face said she was struggling to come up with an answer.

"Drogo..." The playfulness in her voice seemed completely gone as she used his full name. "Let's do our best, okay?"

A moment of silence overcame the two of them as he thought about what she meant. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't imagine them escaping without scars. Perhaps even Katenka had realized that, and that was why she was trying to comfort him instead.

If she could survive though, then maybe that would be enough for his bet to pay off.

"Yeah..." He finally returned the gesture with a reassuring grin.

They remained like that for a while, enjoying the midnight sky together. For the two of them, just the company was enough to satisfy their desires.

* * *

_LEO (Low Earth Orbit)_

_HSST Kaga_

_UN 5th Orbital Fleet_

_Time before Operation Swaraj begins: 0 hours, 10 minutes_

In the curve of Earth's atmosphere, the crews of the 5th orbital fleet observed the orbit around Bhopal hive. HSSTs, sometimes called Re-entry Destroyers for their ability to churn out firepower similar to the naval equivalent, had massed above India in what would be the largest space operation ever undertaken by humanity. It would be their first strike against a hive with the newly formed orbital diver corps, and everyone knew the risks involved.

Satellite pictures gave them detailed image overlays of what the landing zone would look like, and none of those present liked what they saw. BETA swarmed around the hive's entrances, as if anticipating the coming attack.

Still, the captain of the Kaga as the flagship of the operation had sought to do everything in his power to ensure a safe ride for his pilots down to the dirt below. Time, however, was not on his side.

There could be no delays. The assault force had already resupplied and massed itself at Barna Dam, merely a hair's breadth away from Objective 13. Estimates had it that the divers would have to last at least twenty minutes on their own before the main force would arrive, a chilling length of time.

Still, every pilot on board the ships that day were ready to complete their mission or die in the attempt.

"Sir, we are receiving a hail from the _Alta_." Said the bridge communication officer, lovingly referred to by the pilots as Mother Hen.

Her kindness had kept everyone's morale high as they sailed into the unknown. The captain couldn't think of anyone better to shepherd the pilots into the bowels of hell.

"They have reached the optimal firing position. That concludes the fleet's positioning phase, we are now at combat readiness level one."

"Very well then, all hands seal up." The captain ordered as they prepared to enter combat.

In the case of damage to the hull, it was possible the ship itself would vent oxygen. In that event, the suits every crew wore would give them a limited supply and partially protect them from decompression.

It was mainly a formality, as the BETA rarely targeted space-borne assets until they were well into re-entry phase.

"All ships, load AL-warheads. Prepare to fire the first volley." To give their men the best fighting chance, anti-laser measures were ordered to be used.

The heavy metal clouds dispersed by the destruction of the initial shell would cover the skies above the battlefield to counteract the enemies anti-air abilities. Those warheads that weren't shot down still had the ability to cause damage and disruption to the enemy ranks.

Compared to the supplies aboard a sea-borne destroyer, the HSSTs had no chance of a sustained bombardment. On the other hand, their unique position directly above the battlefield gave them an optimal firing solution on the hive and its surrounding area.

"AL warheads loaded. Ready to fire, captain." Mother Hen reported, cool and collected.

There was a tense moment as the operation clock continued to count down on the forward monitor. No one said a word as they passed the five minute mark.

"Fire!" A series of small thumps could be felt in the ship's infrastructure as the shells were launched down onto earth.

Out the windows, dozens of fiery specks could be seen descending into the thick atmosphere. No reprisal attacks had been made after a tense minute or so.

"Reload, prepare for the second volley."

With the second came standard ballistic explosive warheads designed specifically for death and destruction. The hope was to thin the BETA ranks around the diver landing sites.

"Sir, laser energy signatures have been detected on the earth's surface. They are targeting the AL warheads."

"Fire the second volley!" Using the cover of the first, the deadly combo of AL and Explosive warheads would have a better chance of reaching the BETA lines.

The shots were staggered to ensure AL warheads were the first launched and most likely to be shot. Without any kind of guidance system, the weapons were flying blind. The advantage was that the BETA had no way of determining the dangers of either type of shell and were unable to prioritize their anti-air units.

"Have the fleet prepare the third and final volley."

The last barrage would consist completely of explosive and shrapnel rounds to thin the external horde.

"Yes sir..." The girl began to perspire as she glanced at the mission clock for a third time that past minute.

"Go ahead, speak with them." The captain encouraged, understanding her concern.

It would be the last time she would be able to speak with the divers before launch. As she had been their liaison with the fleet since they left earth, it only seemed right for them to say something before parting ways. Those pilots needed something to anchor themselves to as they dropped into the hot zone.

The smiling face of a pretty girl was a good start.

"Prepare the divers' re-entry shell for launch. Fire the third volley!" The bridge crew went into a frenzy to carry out both tasks.

The ship began to angle itself, using pinpoint thruster shots, to launch the shell that hung onto its back. The capsules looked like a bulky engine welded onto the top of the sleek craft, but in actuality carried two TSFs inside its guts. It was even possible for the pilots themselves to move from inside their shell to the confines of the ship, but they would soon be cut off as they prepared for launch.

"Third volley has been released. Diver release in thirty seconds."

"Severing auxiliary power cables A and B. Docking clamps, disengaged."

"Angle at fifteen degrees, holding steady."

"Sir, we are ready for diver launch."

The crew sounded off as their individual tasks were completed. None too soon as the mission clock counted down to its final moments.

"Ships of the 5th Fleet, today we show the rest of the world that we will not sit idly by in the safety of space while our fellow soldiers sacrifice themselves for humanity. With our pilots, we will send the BETA a message that will not soon be forgotten: we still hold the skies of our world!"

A louder plunking sound could be heard as the final clamps released the re-entry shells. A rumble reverberated throughout the ship as the engines roared to life and sent the module screaming down to Earth.

The fleet would remain on station to see the men and women of the 1st Diver Corps through to the end of their journey.

They could only hope the sacrifice given would be enough for victory.

* * *

_Madhya Pradesh, India_

_Objective 13_

_Time since Operation Swaraj start: 0 hours, 43 minutes_

"Vsadnik-2, fox 2!"

"Vsadnik-1 to Vsadnik-7, cover the left flank. Grappler-class are advancing on our Blast Guards!"

"Roger that! Vsadnik-8, take my position!"

A cacophony of shell casings hit the hollowed ground as the TSFs of Vsadnik fought their way through another ambush. Their line was slowly collapsing as the Blast Guards could no longer provide missile support; the enemy had come too close to risk friendly fire, and their guided round supply had almost been expended.

Cut off from the rest of the task force, things looked grim.

Drogo swiveled the TSF to face the oncoming Grappler-class. Sensing his movement, the beasts approached the Storm Vanguard. While the left flank could catch its breath, a large amount of BETA intended to surround and cut off the front line.

Katenka had other plans as her body seemed to meld with the controls. The button presses, control movements, and peddle stomps all translated beautifully through the mounted cameras in the TSF's head. Sprays of thick liquid covered them as the halberds sliced through the enemy ranks. Nothing could touch them when she was like that, as the TSF's appendages simply turned it into a meat grinder.

"Vsadnik-4." Hearing his call-sign, Drogo listened in as Katenka mopped up the remaining enemies. "We need to break out of here and link up with the rest of the infiltration force. Get us a path through to the next Hall."

After breaching the hive, each squadron in the task force diverted into a different underground path in order to increase the opportunity of varied readings. In order to accommodate them, the UN forces also had to split their forces as escorts. Not long after, each squadron reported contact with a large force of BETA after arriving at the first hall in their stab. Their escorts fought bravely, but soon enough all but the esper force remained.

Without the additional firepower, Vsadnik's only chance was to link up with a sister unit. The battle topside was devolving into a massacre as COSEAN forces were undertaking desperate holding actions to keep their line of retreat open. Everyone knew the espers were the most important assets needed to leave the battlefield, and ye t they hadn't got a single satisfactory reading.

Drogo knew there was little chance Katenka was trying to complete her objective. Since they made contact, she wouldn't respond to his orders. She was trapped in her own world as she killed the BETA, no doubt reliving the day that contained the horrible events that killed her original team.

So far, there hadn't been any situations he couldn't handle without her full attention but it was only a matter of time until the BETA response was too much for her "autopilot" to be enough. The keypad on his seat was the only conduit he had to retake direct control of the TSF's systems from her, but he had hesitated to use it in the last combat. Somehow, he wanted her to break free of her fears on her own.

That may not have been an option anymore.

"Roger that. Vsadnik 3, form up. We will take the lead."

"Understood."

"Vsadnik-1 to all units, enter Arrowhead 1. We will push right through the enemy and into the first hall. With luck, we were the slowest group and the rest of the task force will be waiting for us. Go!"

On signal, the two Storm Vanguards took off in the front of the formation. On their flanks, they were supported by Gun Sweepers and the Strike Vanguards. The rest of the squadron took up in the rear in a single file formation.

Fortunately, though the stabs were simply tunnels underground, they were incredibly spacious to accommodate the sheer number of BETA that moved through them. It offered them superior mobility that was only limited by enemy positions in the tunnel itself. Destroyer class lost effectiveness with the minimal threat of Laser class, which had been mostly caught topside by the Diver Corps.

"Sir, approaching the first hall. Sensors are picking up...something massive."

"My esper is freaking out! Spewing out something about the 'colors' of her sisters or something."

Colors? If he remembered correctly, the interpreted thoughts were often likened to colors by the espers. Who was she reading?

"Vsadnik-6, inject a dose of sedative drugs via your control panel. We can't afford to have them going wild this early."

"Vsadnik-6, roger."

"1000 meters, approaching the entrance."

"800 meters."

"600 meters."

Katenka shivered in her seat as they passed the 500 meter mark. Her brain was completely in tune with the outboard sensors, so she had a better idea of what was in front of them than anyone did.

"The monsters...are close." Drogo had a bad feeling of what they were about to find.

"300 meters."

"The colors...too cold. Dro, something weird..." Katenka was mumbling something as they found themselves entering the first hall.

Vsadnik squadron's vanguard quickly made use of their jump unit's multi-directional capabilities and put the craft in full reverse. Those behind them forced their machines to maneuver out-of-the-way, which only forced them deeper into the opening.

"All units, full burn back into the stab! It's a trap." Drogo shouted into his transmitter, but it was too late for Vsadnik-6 and 9.

As the Gun Sweepers, their positions were on the tight left and right flank. They had been too close to the vanguards to follow their sudden movements, but too far to see what was inside the hall. A sudden whiplash of movement from inside could be seen as a fast object approached them.

The Fort-class stinger pierced Vsadnik-6's cockpit, smashing it into pieces. The acid merely added insult to injury as whatever remained of those inside was turned into goo.

Granted only a brief respite thanks to the death of his comrade, Vsadnik-9 was able to turn his engines around. The moment of inertia loss caused him to slow to a crawl for a moment. It was just long enough for a torrent of Tank class to launch from the Fort class's back and onto the TSF. Brought down to the floor with a shattering clunk, the metal armor was torn to pieces in a matter of moments as more BETA approached.

"Ah! Someone, Vsadnik-3, 4. Help me! Help! Shoot these bastards before they get me!"

Drogo recognized the voice as Moscow, but that didn't change his inability to help the downed pilot. The rest of the squadron was already being pursued by the entire hall of BETA. They couldn't afford to turn around for a rescue attempt.

"Vsadnik squadron, hold your positions! Formation Hammerhead One!" The Vanguards quickly formed a line in front of the rest of the TSFs, readying their weapons.

There had been no other friendly units in the hall. They either hadn't arrived, or they were already dead. Judging from the way the espers were reacting, Dro had more than idea of their fates.

"Blast Guards, fire your remaining guided rounds. Impacts, target the Fort Class's weak spots. Vsadnik-10, 11, and 12 with me. We will hold the Sweeper positions."

"Understood!" The grim sound off meant everyone knew there was little chance of survival.

Without a relief force following them from behind or the opportunity for retreat, the horde in front of them would win the war of attrition eventually. Pushing through didn't seem to be an option either, as the hall's entrance became choked with strains of all sizes headed straight for their line.

A series of thumps followed white streaks of missiles launched over the vanguard's head and into the enemy's ranks. The Destroyer and Grappler class that had made up the enemy's front line had been slaughtered, but they were soon replaced by more of the same. Below them, Tank class swarmed forward in the thousands, kept back only by the accurate suppression of Vsadnik-1's Sweeper team.

Heavy shots rang out and hit the shoulder joints of the first Fort class. The shells impacted and exploded with heavy ordinance, bringing the beast crashing down on its unfortunate compatriots hugging the ground beneath. 120Mm rounds, fired by the always accurate Impact guards. From within the insides of the ruined behemoth, countless infantry BETA strains poured out and scattered into the approaching horde.

"Vanguard, charge! The rest of the squadron will advance with you. Our backs will not be pushed against the wall!" A roar of approval was sent over the channel as the four vanguard TSFs charged into the enemy forces.

Katenka let loose a wail that rebounded around the cockpit, surprising Drogo. Again, her movements let loose a flurry of strikes on the initial group of BETA in their way, making short work of them. Their borrowed melee halberds gave the TSF the perfect reach needed to keep the enemy at bay, but it wasn't enough. For all her skill, his esper partner couldn't be everywhere at once.

On their flank, a group of Grapplers used the body of a Destroyer to approach them. The Impact guards were unable to get a firing solution, which meant that he would have to take care of it.

"Katenka, Grapplers on our right. I'll move around the corpses to get a better shot." He tried to communicate with his partner, but it was impossible to tell if she heard him.

As he began to move the TSF, Katenka spasmed in her seat. She released another scream, and it was enough to temporarily stop his movement of the controls.

"I...WILL KILL ALL OF YOU!" The assault cannon mowed down the enemies around them, but the ammo was quickly being wasted on smaller strains.

"Katenka!" He shouted, trying to get her back under control.

It was to no avail, she had lost herself to battle. Blood sprayed onto their armor, coating them in the fluids of their enemies. As more approached, she sank deeper into her seat.

"Kill, kill, kill!" They had lost cohesion with the rest of the formation.

"Vsadnik-4, pull back!"

"I've been hit, Vsadnik-3 is-" An explosion rocked the exterior of the cockpit.

His wingman had gone silent, leaving them alone to hold the center line.

"Not again! I will not lose them again!" In a pirouette, the blade cut through a group of Tanks that had leaped into the air in a pounce attack.

"Damn!" Drogo realized that he had no other choice and activated the drug release mechanism on their two seater.

With the sedatives inside the seat connected directly to her fortified suit, she would be unable to keep her aggressive attitude. He could safely disengage her control of the weapons and take over, and maybe they could escape with their lives. No matter how hard she tried, Katenka wasn't able to get over her past and they could no longer afford to endanger the lives of the people around them.

The girl continued to admirably use the weapons to kill BETA as the medicine's effects began to take over. But as he counted the seconds, she was only growing more restless. Was the dose not enough? Her cries only became louder and more incomprehensible. The display told him her suit was working properly to distribute the chemicals, but either her constitution was too strong for the medicine to take hold, or what he was giving her wasn't sedatives.

_What the hell is going on?!_

"Vsadnik-4, we have lost visual. Get back into formation!"

They were deep in the horde now, cut off from the rest. Another Fort class shot its stinger straight for them, and Drogo forced the mech to dodge. It sent their shoulder smashing into the nearest grappler, sending the creature flying. More enemies took its place and were overwhelming the single TSF's firepower.

_No choice._

Drogo activated the command override to give him full control of the TSF. Katenka was no longer fit to complete the primary objective, and so she had no reason to continue to fight. If he could rejoin the rest of the squadron, they could make a tactical retreat out the hive gate.

"Vsadnik squadron, pull back! Our exit window is closing. The battle upstairs has been lost!"

The shots fired from behind them began to taper off as the surviving members of the squadron retreated. Without their support, he had little chance of pushing through the wall of flesh and linking up with them. They must have already thought him dead.

_Damn those Russian bastards..._

The command override pulsed red on his heads up display as it failed to reacquire the weapon controls from the front seat. Confused, he forced the program to run again only for it to bottleneck. Had someone gone so far as to sabotage his ability to take full control?

How far where they willing to go to get rid of him?

No, he still had to get through to the end. He had to protect her!

"Katenka, we are going to push right through them."

If they couldn't go back, they would go farther in. Complete the primary objective, or at least kill as many BETA as they could.

"Fight, fight and win. Kill all of the monsters!" She swept through any BETA foolish to stay in their way while Drogo piloted them through the gaps.

Once they breached the hall, he brought his TSF engines into full ascension. They idled at the ceiling for a moment, and he finally realized why their reinforcements hadn't arrived.

They were in fact the slow squadron, and the rest of the task force and their UN escorts had arrived first to battle the horde guarding the first hall. In the middle of the room, the BETA had gathered the grisly remains of the TSFs: bits and pieces that hadn't been eaten already. It seemed that after they pulled the pilots out, that was the point they stopped consuming the super carbon structure.

With the imagination, it was obvious to tell the fates of the men and women who had fought and died before them. It still didn't make it any easier when they saw the remains of dozens and even hundreds of TSFs and he knew there was no chance of survival. Smaller strains surrounded the pile like larva, feasting on the corpses of the still fresh bodies.

They didn't have enough ammo to stop the feast, nor was there any point. As always, there would be more BETA to continue the scouring long after they had abandoned their firing position. Attacking wouldn't protect anyone, as the pilots were long dead.

"We need to move. They are headed up the walls." Behind them, Tanks swarmed up the hall's rounded dome ceiling toward where they hovered.

"Must..kill..."

"Kat..." It was hard to see her so lost.

He switched to full burn and headed through the adjoining stab, hoping their path would take them deeper into the enemy stab. If they were lucky, they might find something valuable enough to blow up.

"Dro..turn around. They aren't finished yet."

He ignored her and pushed deeper into the hive. Not deterred, her complaints grew louder.

"Weak. Weakling. Don't run away."

"Kill them, I must kill them."

"LET ME GO!"

Despite not being the one in charge of weapons, he saw their dreadful ammo situation for himself. They only had a single clip left in the cannon, and it was halfway gone. Their 120mm shells had long been extinguished, leaving them with nothing capable of punching through Destroyer and Fort class armor. The two halberds they had were their primary weapons now, but their short range would see the TSF surrounded and destroyed.

Their options were limited in combat now more than ever.

"Have I ever told you about what happened to the girl who helped me win, Katenka?"

Drogo asked her with a smile, though she could not see it. Inside his head, the memories began to flow out as he found himself in that small village again. Hopefully if he talked about something else, he could get through to her.

"We stayed together to survive. Wherever there was room, we lived. The food we won from gambling was enough for the two of us, so we never brought anyone over. That was okay, because Natassja said she didn't want anyone else but me."

His smile turned sour as he remembered that windy autumn morning. The weather had been so nice that they planned to go out and see the lake before it froze again.

"She said she was going to head out and get food for a picnic. I wanted to go with her, but there was something I had to do at home. It should have taken an hour, but Natassja never returned."

The grip he had on the controls tightened. Through gritted teeth, the emotions he felt that day seemed to be mirrored inside.

"I was never able to find out what happened to her. No one had seen her at the store, and I knew she was comfortable with the area. It was like she disappeared without a trace. There was nowhere for her to go, so the only conclusion was someone took her."

The thought of some maniac taking Natassja and hurting her filled him with rage. The girl had become his sister and the thought of being powerless to help her, wherever she went stabbed him through the heart.

"Katenka..." She had been quiet throughout the story, and her vitals had calmed down. "You remind me of her, you know? Whenever you get wild like this, you get the same blue eyes. It made me not want to lose you."

_Maybe they knew that?_

It didn't matter. In the end, they would both die in that hole. There was nothing the scientists or the soviet officers who had ordered them to die could do to change that.

The words the Major had told him before they began the operation wrung in his head again. Live or die, he was to become a statistic of war. Their data was useless, their lives forfeit. In the end, there was always another pilot and esper ready to take their place and make the same sacrifice.

"Dro..I feel warm. Those words, that place...felt really warm." He didn't fully understand, but he was glad to hear her speaking normally.

"Kat-" The radar warning sounded as enemy signatures appeared again.

The stab filled with them ahead and those behind them hadn't given up. The red masses converged from both sides, and he knew there was nowhere left to run. He cut the engines and brought them down to ground level. The BETA would be on them any moment.

"Dro!" Now that the spell had been broken, Katenka had returned to child-like self.

They stared at one another, and he could see that fear had returned. Together, he wouldn't let her lose herself again. One way or another, he would end her fears once and for all.

"Kat, I promise you won't have any nightmares. They are going to go away."

The warning klaxons sounded off in the cockpit to alert them of imminent impact. On the radar, the BETA had already arrived and begun their attack. The sound of twisting and rending metal could be heard. Parts of the TSF were disappearing under the flood.

"Dro..." From the front, Katenka got up from her seat and climbed up to join him. "I'm not afraid when I'm with you."

In his arms, she embraced him. The control panel was still active, so he input a final command that he had been afraid to ever use. Faced with impending doom, he knew his decision was right.

Drogo stroked her back, petting the silver strands of hair as they fanned out behind her. Her body shook as their cockpit rocked back and forth. It wouldn't be long before their armor would evaporate.

From the back of her seat in front of his legs, a cylindrical panel emerged. On its head, there was a hand grip, used to pull and activate the device. He wouldn't let what happened to the others, happen to Katenka.

"Dro...what are you doing?"

His hand drifted to the device, unsteady. No matter how necessary, his body still felt heavy in the face of death.

"I'll save you, I promise."

Her small hand enveloped his and guided it to the self-destruct device.

"Together, we'll go."

As one, they grabbed the handle and pulled. There was a small click and decompression as the device shrunk into itself upon activation.

They stared into each other eyes as a white light encompassed the cockpit. The last thing he saw was the empty ocean, now filled with his reflection.

* * *

_Andaman Base_

Inside the base, there was a meeting held between the officers in charge of overseeing the Alternative III's operation. They were undergoing a debriefing as they prepared to relay a final report back to the Party. Most of the men had already been dismissed, and all that remained was the Soviet commander in charge of the project, his assistant, and a KGB intelligence officer.

"As you requested sir, the report filed by Major Brugofksy."

The executive officer handed a folder over to his superior, who sat behind a desk. The intelligence officer sat quietly on the opposite side of the room, waiting.

"Ah, let's see what he has to say for himself."

The commander began to browse through the report, his mood worsening with each passing glance. Almost the entire unit had been killed. The few espers that had survived were unresponsive and had to be immediately placed in their adjustment tanks. Some feared they were doomed to fall into a catatonic state permanently due to the overwhelming sensory readings they received on the battlefield.

"Rubbish." He threw the folder back onto the desk.

Unfazed, the officer tidied it up and prepared the second report.

"And, what is this?"

"The report on Trial 04-0293, as you requested."

Eyebrow raised, the old man took the much thinner folder from his subordinate and began flipping through the pages. After he got to a certain point, he looked back up with a deathly visage.

"You are dismissed."

Unnerved, the younger officer saluted and quickly left. The intelligence officer remained, stiff as a board.

"This information...I am disgusted by the fact of how intriguing it all is. The same feeling you get when your lie is seen as truth."

The other man did not answer him, and perhaps it was true he mostly spoke to himself. What was inside the folder was too much for him to hold his tongue though.

"Drogo Vachnadze...poor bastard. The spooks had it out for him as soon as they read his psychological profile. There was no better fit for the memories they created, supposedly."

Through the use of Prafka and other mind altering hypnosis techniques, Drogo Vachnadze was implanted with a series of fake memories from his "past". The hope was that his triggers would lead him to grow a closer bond to Katenka, and enhance his drive to protect her.

It was made all the more difficult from Katenka's PTSD due to the ambush and destruction of her entire unit during a BETA skirmish in 1991. The loss was reported as a training accident rather than account for her being part of a military operation at the time, and she was refused hypnotic suggestion and other appropriate measures needed to prevent the destabilization of mental capacity.

Instead, her dreams were induced and forced whenever she entered the adjustment tanks in order to perpetuate and augment her fear and loathing of the BETA. Everything, from the medicine and shots she was forced to take to the combat drugs incorporated into her TSF seat were changed to adrenaline boosters and emotion inhibitors.

They both became a living experiment to see how far engineered humans could go.

"It was a failure. No matter how you look at it, they were too weak to overcome the barriers."

The commander shook his head in disgust. He thought there were better, more straightforward methods of making humans into living weapons. That level of manipulation was not something he found so appealing.

"Yes, but the results were..interesting. Can't you see the potential, General?"

Finally, the man across from him spoke in reverence of the data he must have already looked over.

"Sandek, of course you could appreciate this kind of work."

"Hmph. Say what you will. To get anywhere in this world, you have to be willing to seize opportunity." Clearly, there was something more to the results of the trial that the intelligence officer recognized.

"Yes, some pilot with fake memories and an esper with terrible nightmares died in agony, without accomplishing anything. However, one look at their combat data shows a marked increase in fighting capability at certain points of battle where it seems as though their minds had melded as they shared the same emotions and same desires to kill the BETA."

Sandek was now standing and approached the front of the desk. No longer were his eyes hidden under a cap, but rather they were gleaming from excitement.

"Replace the average pilot with a fellow esper, and you have greater opportunity for combat output with their mind synchronization. Incorporate Prafka and adrenaline boosters, and you have yourself a time bomb ready to be set off in the thickest of fighting."

With the right support and training, the espers could be turned into something much more than glorified radars. He merely needed the opportunity to test it. The trial information offered him more evidence to proceed.

"Sandek, what are you planning? The Party will never accept the reckless endangerment of the espers as long as Alternative III still has a chance of winning."

"Hmph. The chairman will change his tune, after the poor results of this operation. After that, it's only a matter of time..."

Patience was his strong suit, after all. To see his plan come to fruition, he was willing to wait as long as it took.

"The Pyatina have just about been wiped out. You are out of test subjects, I'm afraid."

"From what I hear, the Sestina are already being brought out of their tanks. I have high hopes for them."

Stubborn to the last, the general gave up trying to sway the man otherwise.

"Whatever your plan is, I hope it is less of a farce then this debacle was. At this rate, the Party will cut us all loose."

Sandek straightened himself out and took his officer's cap from the nearby table.

"Then, I suppose my timing was impeccable. You've served my purposes well."

_As have you, Drogo. A shame you couldn't live to see your descendants carry on in your stead._

Placing the hat over his head, he fit it snug. With nothing left to speak of, he turned his back to the commander and exited the room. He had to prepare his report to the chairman, who was surely eager to hear the results of his mission away from Alaska.

_Everything was progressing as it should be._

That sounded like an appropriate way to start, Sandek thought.

**I do not own Muv Luv.**


End file.
